


I know you love him, too.

by TheDragonAndTheHare



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexual John, I just want them all to be happy and in love is that too much to ask for??, In a happy world AU, Multi, Pansexual Mary, and is open to a queerplatonic relationship with Mary, but he wants to be with John, discussions of polyamory, idk what Sherlock is in this case, pre-polyamory, where Mary ain't an assassin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 12:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonAndTheHare/pseuds/TheDragonAndTheHare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To propose a date you give them flowers. To propose marriage you give ‘em a ring. What do you give the person you’re asking to join an already established relationship?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I know you love him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Something I've been sitting on a for while, but I finally managed to merge a few versions of this together and edit it to get to this finished thing.

They’d just finished making love when she knew it was time to bring it up. Mary had realized a little while ago that John needed to talk about it, even if he didn’t want to. John had a lazy smile on his face as his head was lying near her collarbone and an arm around her middle, while she petted his hair and felt the same contentment. It was the perfect moment to strike, so to speak, though it was not a typical pillow talk subject. His soul is just as bare as they are, with their bodies still relaxed from the bliss of orgasm.

It was something that he had been avoiding for months, ever since Sherlock had returned. She can see the turmoil underneath the surface; because he can’t hide it as well as Sherlock can. Mary sees it every time the two are together: the way they act around each other, the way they talk to each other, and the looks they, perhaps subconsciously, give while the other isn’t looking. And even sometimes when they are looking.

She sees it every time John looks at her, talks to her, acts around her – it’s the looks of love, tone of love, and acts of love. It’s all exactly the same, if a little different in execution. 

“John,” she said, her voice soft and caring. She receives a hum in response, to indicate that he’s listening, and she continues, “I know you still love him.”

Mary feels John tense around her. He’s silent, either not knowing what to say or not wanting to reply at all.

“And I know you love me, too,” she continues, and hits it right on the mark as always.

John groans, knowing he can’t hide from her now. He can’t hide from her at all. She knows exactly the turmoil that is happening beneath the surface – he can’t hide it as Sherlock can. He sobs into her skin, feeling it all welling up as it’s finally said out loud.

John groans, unable to speak or not wanting to, and pulls away from her. He throws his legs over the side and sits up, leaning forward and rubbing his face with his hands. “No, Mary,” he managed. “I don’t want to…”

“You _need_ to talk about this, John! This is not something you should keep running away from. I can see it eating away at you,” she sat up behind him and wriggled forwards, curling herself around him, head in the crook of his neck and arms circling around his middle. It’s a firm embrace, but one John could easily leave if he wanted to.

“Please talk to me about it. It hurts me to see you like this.”

John runs a hand over one of her forearms, his fingertips lightly grazing her soft skin, and he silently agrees with her. He has been running away from this – and perhaps it is something he has been avoiding for too long. “I’m… I’m not good at talking about this sort of stuff, you know that, Mary.

“I love you so much,” he whispers, his eyes burning. He feels the press of her lips against his cheek, a silent encouragement. “But, I just… I love him, too, when I know I shouldn’t. I’m happy and in love with you, but at the same time… it hurts because I’m in love with him, too. It feels too much, Mary.”

Mary shifts a little so she’s in a more comfortable position, her heart aching for him as he finally says it all out loud. John begins to cry properly, hot tears sliding down his face, and she lets him, knowing he’s needed to say this for a while, but not knowing how.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, kissing his head and trying to comfort him as best she can.

“But I don’t want to leave you, Mary. I choose you, only you,” he keeps mumbling into her breast.

“Shh,” she soothes, “It’s okay. I’m not trying to give you an ultimatum. I’m not telling you it’s a choice between me and Sherlock.” Her voice is gentle, and she can feel John calming a little now that he’s got it out.

“Lay back down, John darling,” she says, guiding him, until they’re comfortably lying in the position they were before.

Mary idly wipes his cheeks with a sweep of her thumb, noticing that John is reluctant to look her in the eyes, already feeling like he’s betrayed her. But eventually he does, and sees her lips curled in her small smile, sees the crinkles in the corner of her eyes, in which he sees nothing but love.

“I love you, too,” she says, kissing the tip of his nose. “I’ll tell you a little story. When I was younger, around my mid twenties, I fell in love with two people, too. And it broke my heart that the only choice I had was to be with only one of them. It felt wrong that when I fell in love with two amazing, beautiful people, society kept saying that that was unacceptable. And in the end… I couldn’t do it. Be with one, and love them both. I couldn't do it, so I left.”

John could see that happening in her past. She held so much love inside her, it was amazing, and to tell her that she couldn’t love someone… it was like telling her to cut off a limb.

“There are parts of society that keeps saying that a loving, consensual relationship between two people of the same sex is weird, and even considered wrong by some. It keeps saying that a loving, consensual relationship between three or more people is definitely weird and wrong. But why would love, no matter who shares it, ever be wrong?”

John listened carefully to her words, trying to fully grasp what she was saying.

“I’m telling you, John, that it’s okay to be in love with me and be in love with Sherlock,” Mary whispered. “It’s quite perfectly alright. It would be wrong of me to tell you to stop, to choose between him and me. I know Sherlock, not quite as well as you do, but I already know him to be a good man. I like him, and I definitely know that he loves you.”

“So, you’re saying…?” John wanted this to be perfectly clear.

“I’m saying John, you numpty, that if Sherlock is as amenable as I am, I think we could give this a go. All three of us, together.”

John sighed, and would have collapsed if he weren’t already in bed. “How did I ever deserve such a wonderful person such as you?” He kissed her, the weight on his heart lifting as he realized exactly what this meant.

“I could never tell you to stop being you, John,” Mary replied, her smile growing to match John’s as she watched how elated he was becoming. “But you still need to talk to him, John. And an open and frank discussion is needed between the three of us.”

John nodded. “I’ll go see him in the morning,” he said, yawning. “You are amazing,” he whispered again, “absolutely wonderful.”

“I know,” she whispered back, and they both gave a small chuckle, before they both started to feel the pull of sleep. They closed their eyes and shuffled into more comfortable positions, and they both felt much happier within themselves.

\--

John pulled a jacket from the closet, and turned so Mary could see it. “Does this one look alright? Or maybe another one…”

Mary tilted her head and ‘hmm’-ed, putting on a very serious thinking face. “It goes with the trousers, but I don’t think it goes with the shirt,” she got up from the bed and went to the closet, diving into it. “I think you have a white one around here somewhere… aha!” She pulled a crisp, white shirt from somewhere in the back, and held it out to John.

John quickly shucked out of the blue shirt and threw it on the bed, where it joined two other discarded ones, and put on the white. Mary stepped back to observe the whole look once the jacket was on.

She smiled, her eyes darting up and down. “Very nice, John! Now, a tie maybe?”

“Erm… I don’t know. Should I?”

Mary was already digging through his ties. “Let’s have a look,” she said, pulling out a thin brown tie. She stepped up to him and threw the fabric round his neck and began doing it up for him.

She could feel his eyes on her as she knotted, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks.

“You are wonderful, you are,” John whispered as she tightened it.

“I know,” she smirked.

“Absolutely amazing,” he said.

“I know,” she straightened the done up tie, patted it down and smoothed the rest of the shirt and jacket. “Very dapper,” she smiled, giving him a peck on the lips. “Sherlock won’t know what hit him.”

“Should I… should I get him some flowers or something?” John asked, feeling nervous.

“Is Sherlock the type to appreciate flowers?” Mary asked, dashing into the bathroom to grab the lint roller.

“No, probably not,” John sighed. “But it feels a little weird to not bring something. To propose a date you give them flowers. To propose marriage you give ‘em a ring. What do you give the person you’re asking to join an already established relationship?”

Mary thought on it for a moment while she ran the roller along his shoulders. “What would he appreciate?” She said to herself. “Something for him to do experiments on? Or maybe just a bottle of milk?”

John snorted, an amused grin on his face. “Yeah, I’ll just get him a bottle of milk. He probably won’t have any anyway, unless Mrs. Hudson has stocked his fridge for him.”

“After you have your little chat with him, bring him around, and we can have tea. I’ll make scones, and we can have a good, long discussion,” she said, doing some last fussing over, feeling every bit as nervous as he was.

“I love you so much, Mary,” John said, kissing her once more for good luck.

“I love you, too,” she replied, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, before finally letting her go.

“Go get him, tiger!” Mary said encouragingly, her smile warm and loving, and she followed him out of the bedroom through their flat.

John paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. “Can I really do this, Mary?” He asked quietly. “Can I really tell him that I love him and you?” Equally? Both? At the same time? It’s not exactly conventional or typical.”

Mary reached up and held his head in her hands. “Of course you can, love. And if he says no, you can have some closure on whether or not it could have been. I’ll still be here. And remember what I said last night? Who cares if it’s unusual? Will it honestly be hurting anyone, physically or emotionally? People often forget that love doesn’t have any prejudice about who shares it.”

John nodded, feeling his confidence returning. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

“Go on!” Mary said, shooing him out the door. He turned back for a moment, still nervous. “Good luck, love!” She said, and firmly shut the door on him.

Mary sighed and leaned against the door, sensing every bit of John’s giddiness and excitement and experiencing it as if it were her own. She felt very optimistic about this indeed. She checked the time – almost 11AM – and headed straight for the shower.

\--

_Heading home now. Sherlock is with me – JW_

_Wonderful! What time, do you think? – MM_

_Around 1 – JW_

_I’ll put the scones in now – MM_

Mary glanced at the time on her screen, and saw she had about fifteen minutes left until they got here. She placed the scones in the oven, and did a quick sweep of the living room and the kitchen, to make sure everything was neat and tidy. She checked her hair in the hallway mirror, and tucked away a loose strand. And then the scones were done, and she put the kettle on to boil.

She busied herself with setting up the tea tray, her hands almost shaking with her nerves. She set down three nice cups onto their nice saucers, got out the sugar bowl, filled a small jug with milk, and put a few teaspoons of loose leaves into the tea pot. She poured in the boiled water, gave the brew a quick stir and finally put the lid on to let it steep.

The apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of baking as Mary spread some cream and jam on to three of the scones. And then she heard the door open, and she stood up quickly and smoothed down her shirt.

“Come on up, boys!” She called. “The scones have just come out of the oven.”

Mary picked up the tray and carried it into the living room, where she found Sherlock standing by the window. He was impeccably dressed, as he usually was when leaving his flat, donning a black suit with a very complimentary purple shirt underneath. He was wringing his hands in an anxious manner, though his face didn’t show anything about how he was feeling.

“Sherlock dear!” Mary greeted, setting down the tray onto the coffee table before giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”

“I am very well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I’ve been good, yeah. Did John nip to the loo, or something?”

“No, I, uh… I asked if it would be okay if we converse alone first before we discussed this altogether. He’ll be back a little later.”

Mary nodded, rubbing her hand up and down his arm as she guided Sherlock down to the couch. “How do you like your tea?”

“Milky and sweet,” Sherlock answered around a mouthful of scone.

Mary prepared their tea, and they were both silent for a moment as they took a sip. She studied his face while he drank, seeing that his guard his guard was down, if just for a little while, while they were alone. He looked a little edgy, and perhaps under a little stress. The underneath of his eyes were a little puffy, as if he’d been crying; and the muscles that pulled the corners of his mouth twitched every now and then, as if they’d been pulled too hard for too long.

“So John told you, then? How he feels about you?”

Sherlock quietly set his cup on the saucer, the tea already half gone, and placed it back on the table. “Yes he did.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I… reciprocated. Very eagerly.”

Mary chuckled and simpered.

“I then panicked for a moment, because I suddenly remembered you. But then John explained it to me.”

She nodded, watching the quick, fleeting emotions run through his face.

“This arrangement… it has me a little worried.”

“How so, dear? John loves us both greatly, equally. I couldn’t bear to see him so confused and unhappy about a choice he didn’t have to make,” Mary said.

“I thought for a moment that this would be an open relationship. He’ll go to you when he wants, and he’ll come to me when he wants – that we would share him. But then John said that it would be a relationship between all three of us.”

Mary did see that he was looking a little apprehensive at the thought.

“I was hoping that the relationship between us, while it doesn’t need to be sexual, would still be more than friends. I don’t think this could work if we didn’t come to love each other to some capacity.”

Sherlock took another sip of tea before saying: “You’d like to strengthen our emotional relationship so it’s on the same level to the ones we individually have with John.”

“Yes, exactly!”

A twinkle in his eye emerged, though he still kept his face blank. “I think… that is manageable.” He nodded, resolved, and let a little emotion leak through so Mary could see that he was feeling relieved.

“I mean, a hug and a kiss on the cheek from time to time wouldn’t go much astray, either,” Mary grinned cheekily, and she received a genuine smile from Sherlock in return.

She leaned in for a hug, and Sherlock opened his arms for her; their grips tight around each other, and both could feel the warmness grow between them.

“I find myself growing more and more comfortable with you, Mary. I foresee many conversations between us that we can’t have with others.”

“I’d really like that, Sherlock. I really would,” she said, kissing his cheek once more before pulling away. They remained close to each other, though, one side pressing against the other.

“You know, none of the others were ever like you. Each and every one said it was either they or I. But not you, Mary,” he took another sip of tea, to pause for a moment as he thought about his next sentence. “Sometimes I think I risk enough sentiment when it comes to John. But upon reevaluation I think can risk a bit for you.”

Mary grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, beaming, and Sherlock squeezed it in return.

“So you really would like to give this a go?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Shall we go fetch John, then?”


End file.
